


A Different Victory

by calibratingentropy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe, Captivity, Developing Relationship, Double Life, Forced (but not unwanted) Bonding, Gladiator Shiro (Voltron), Hugs, Implied/Referenced Experimentation, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Quad-sexed Ovoviviparous Marsupial Galra, Relationship Formed Under Duress, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: When a Galra is forced into the arena with Shiro, Shiro finds victory out of his grasp, but surrendering earns him so much more than another win. His own victory isn't what his captors demand from him.Petty revenge results in Thace forced into the arena, and he searches for a way to get around "victory or death" for both him and his opponent. Maybe hope can be a victory over the Empire like no other the Blades have won.Together, they make the best of a bad situation, find comfort, and finally, achieve their own victory.





	A Different Victory

Blood. Guts. Scorched flesh. Ozone. Screaming. _Cheering_. This was life in the Arena. 

Pain. Guilt. Hunger. Nausea. Nerves. _Disgust_. This was survival in the arena. 

There was a body on the sand, throat burned out by his new arm. The crowd was calling for another opponent. He’d already fought (killed, oh god) three tonight. No more. Please.

The doors to the slave pens at the arena’s edge weren’t opening. No opponent coming in. No _escape_. 

Some of the cheers turned angry. Mocking. Anger was a threat. Shiro had to look up, even if it was never a good idea to meet the audience’s gaze. Some of the captors, the Galra, were jeering at one of their own, whose shoulders hunched defensively. In another life, Shiro might have felt for the obviously bullied man but he could barely scrape together vague concern. It was too distant; might as well be another world. 

That world was suddenly joined with his when a hard shove knocked the bullied man off balance. He caught himself by one hand, dangling halfway into the arena, but another Galra with bright yellow on his chest and tusks for teeth grabbed his wrist and _yanked_. Tusked-Galra’s voice rang out, echoing over the crowd gone quiet with curiosity. “If you think the Champion is so _valuable_ , maybe you need to prove your own worth to him!” 

The others in the crowd laughed and elbowed each other like it was some kind of dirty joke, and the bullied man dropped into the arena. He landed lightly, in a crouch, and turned a glowing gold gaze on Shiro. 

Shiro didn’t move. One of the guards threw a captive’s sword at the man’s feet. 

The man didn’t move. One of the guards called out, “kill him and you get a shower and extra rations!” 

This was a captor. A Galra. An abuser. It was right to be angry and go for the kill. 

This was a man. An unwilling fighter. A victim. It was just the same as every other fight. 

Shiro yelled and charged. He could make it quick. The sword wouldn’t stand up to his new arm anyway. But the man was fast and skilled. Shiro’s attack missed, and so did the next.

The flat of the blade, not the edge, slammed into his shoulder. The flash of pain was enough to create an opening. Shiro tumbled; the crowd screamed for a kill. 

The man didn’t move. One of the guards jeered about compassion and weakness. 

Shiro _moved_. He couldn’t die here. 

It was the same as before. The man dodged, parried, and then finally struck. Shiro’s breath was driven from his lungs, and his new elbow pinned beneath a boot.

The man didn’t move. When the crowd’s anger sounded, he said loudly. “And kill one of the Witch’s personal projects? I value my life.” 

Shiro _couldn’t_ move. But then he was free.

It was the same, until it wasn’t. The man came in close, locking the sword with Shiro’s new arm. “If I knock you unconscious, they might kill you anyway. Yield, and display your throat. The crowd might be amused enough to let us both walk away.” 

The man disengaged and jumped back. He had pale stripes in his hair, like the white streaking through Shiro’s. He looked almost tired. Shiro didn’t want to do this anymore. His knees jarred against the sand and he tipped his chin up, up, back. Breath dragged itself out of his chest like an airlock exposed to vacuum. “I yield.” 

The crowd screamed, cheered, chanted. “Claim him, claim him!” 

The man didn’t move. “I’m not an exhibitionist,” he said. 

Shiro didn’t move. The doors opened, and finally guards came to drag him away. 

His cell was empty and cold. There was no food and no shower. His cell was welcome. 

Guards came to drag him away. The numbness of the arena clung with claws, but fear started crawling through it. Thinking hurt. Feeling hurt _worse_. Shiro wanted to struggle, to ask ‘where are you taking me?’ but there were no words. It was too soon for a fight, not long enough since his last time on the table (please, anything but that), and it broke routine. 

Anything that broke routine was terrible. Terrifying. The panic froze him, but the guards just shoved him through a door, laughing. “Enjoy your prize,” they said, “we’re freezing your door lock until morning.” 

The man was there, in soft clothes instead of armor, and bare feet (claws) silent on the metal floor. He sighed heavily, and each movement was slow and careful, so Shiro could track them, plan for them— That was consideration, wasn’t it?

Shiro sat up, sore and tired, and for a moment felt terribly self-conscious of the slave’s jumpsuit that was filthy and hid nothing. The man blinked once as he came out of a closet, something in his hands. His nose wrinkled. “You reek of blood and fear; follow me please?” 

It was a question, so softly said that Shiro almost doubted hearing it. His heart was in his throat, but he followed, because he’d been asked. It was a bathroom, and the man was pressing buttons in the wall. He gestured at it. “Put the jumpsuit in here; it will clean the worst of the filth. Do you know how to operate the showers?” 

He’d always just been shoved under the cold spray, so Shiro shook his head. He was being given a shower? Was it a trap? But the man explained how to work the shower, and put a clean and folded shirt and pants ( _the man’s_ shirt and pants) down for him to change into. He was walking out when Shiro found his voice, “Why am I here?” 

“Yielding and showing your throat like that was a parody of courtship, so they expect me to use you.” The man sighed again, stepping back when Shiro tensed. “I won’t touch you, or do anything you don’t explicitly ask for. I will provide food and rest, if you want to take them. Tonight, you’re safe.” 

“Why?” It didn’t make sense. This was a Galra. (This was a man.)

“Some of us don’t agree with the Empire’s notions of strength,” the man tensed like he’d said something forbidden and it even sharpened his voice, “now, please wash. You really do stink.” 

The water was too warm, and the patter against his skin made Shiro flinch away from stinging cuts. The water was heaven. Shiro stayed until his fingertips pruned, washing again and again, and then let the air dry him. He didn’t look in the mirror while he pulled on the too big (soft) clothes, because it was easy to imagine that who he’d see looking back wouldn’t even be human anymore. 

The man was setting a cup and a bowl on a small table when Shiro stepped out. He gestured to Shiro, expression soft, and backed away. “This is for you, if you want to eat. Please, try to eat slowly, if you can. It won’t do you any good if you throw it back up.” 

The food was for _him_. Shiro drank down the water first, and the cup was refilled. The purple slime was like flavorless bacon grease, but better than the crumbly slaves’ rations. It took effort not to gulp it down, and Shiro looked up at the man. This was… kindness? It made so little sense. “I’m Shiro.” 

They called him a number, or Champion. Shiro hated that so he had to say his name. At least somebody knew now. The man nodded, suddenly tense. “Thace.” 

“Thace,” it was odd on his tongue, strangely welcome, and Shiro said it again. And again, as he licked the bowl and spoon clean. Thace had a packet of more slime in his hands, and Shiro _wanted_ it, but his stomach felt like lead inside him, overfull and queasy with it. 

Thace must have understood, and he put the packet away. His expression was almost sad. “You can rest, if you want; I’ll stay away from the bed.” 

Why was Thace acting like he was the threat (but he was!), when Shiro was the arena fighter? Suddenly he was angry, and it was so easy to activate his arm and strike—

Thace didn’t move. Shiro’s old (real) fist thumped against Thace’s chest, and Thace was so warm beneath it. He could have killed Thace, but Thace didn’t fight back, and he was holding so still just letting Shiro… 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Silence. Then, finally, “Everyone deserves basic dignity.” 

The words washed over Shiro, feeling unreal. They were true, and Shiro wanted to believe them. Wanted to stay like this, a warm, alive chest rising and falling underneath his hands, against his cheek. Touch, without pain or fighting or experiments. How long had it been? Months, at least. 

It was like heat lightning in summer, an unfulfilled promise of relief wrapped up in starkly beautiful packaging that couldn’t be touched. The realization made Shiro shake, tremble traveling out from his core and into clutching fingertips. He wanted this. He didn’t feel alone (lie) with another person so close. He _needed_ this. 

“Breathe,” Thace’s voice was as much a vibration against his cheek than a sound in his ears. It was soft and steady in the ebb and flow of a chant, presenting a rhythm to follow. 

Shiro did. The tremble stopped. His voice cracked in his throat. “This is cruel…” 

“This is the Empire.” There was emotion there. Bitterness? Resignation. 

Thace didn’t move. He didn’t protest, even when Shiro’s grip surely went past the point of pain.

Shiro didn’t move. Convincing himself to stop, step back, only made a quaking unease rise in his chest, and his fingers tightened. Something had to give. Something— “—don’t wanna be alone.” 

He shouldn’t have said that. Thace didn’t move. His voice was careful, almost tentative. “I promised I wouldn’t do anything unless you explicitly asked. I’m going to keep that promise.” 

Oh. He had to ask. This was it. He’d ask and the trap would spring. He’d be mocked (beaten), dragged back— He had to ask. “Touch me—a, a hug. Please.” 

Now Thace would… move so slowly Shiro almost didn’t notice. It was slow agony, but the good kind. No surprises. One hand settled, warmth and just a hint of pressure, at the curve of his shoulder blade, and the other in the small of his back. He could move and break the hug without any exertion, Shiro realized. It wasn’t blocking him in. It— His breath hitched. Hitched again. His eyes stung. He was starting to _cry_. Shiro would be mocked for his weakness, thrown back into the cell—!

Thace was talking. “The Empire lives by victory or death, but it’s wrong. Sometimes death is the victory. Sometimes the victory is surviving, in spite of the tortures the Empire forces people through. Someone close to me tells me that hope can be a victory. I’m starting to believe it.” 

Shiro had never heard that from a Galra. It didn’t sound like a lie, either. Maybe it was even something he needed to hear, after so long being forced to fight to live and for the entertainment of others. There was no _judgement_. 

Shiro wrapped his arms around Thace’s ribs and cried. Until his knees tried to buckle. Until the shirt under his face was soaked with tears and snot. So he hadn’t run out of tears long ago after all. 

He felt… better, after the sobs trailed off into sniffles. Cleansed in his spirit the way his body had finally found cleansing in that shower. Shiro shouldn’t have let this happen, trusted enough to break down, but now that he had, maybe he just had to go with it, and see where it led. Thace hadn’t moved, not once, even though the wet shirt had to be uncomfortable. Shiro recognized why, now. Autonomy. He was giving Shiro the choice to choose what was happening in his personal space, to direct where he was touched, and what he did with his own body. …How long had he been denied even that now? They’d even taken his _arm_. It made his breath catch in a different way. 

What did he even want? Shiro wasn’t sure, but rest made logical sense. He just… The thought of pulling away made his heart start to hammer in his chest. “I want to rest, but—“ 

“You’re touch-starved,” Thace said softly, and it made a surprising amount of sense. After a beat, Thace continued. “Direct me, and I’ll follow your lead. I’ll hold still unless you tell me to move.” 

“Okay.” Shiro turned around, very aware of the touch trailing across his shoulders, around his side. The new position of Thace’s hands on his chest and stomach was… awkward. Shiro was gonna go with awkward. He pushed the lower hand aside, knowing he was blushing. 

But… “Um. Maybe put your arm around my shoulders?” 

“Like this?” Thace’s arm moved (Shiro felt weirdly powerful in that split second) and settled in a loose drape over his shoulders like an old friend would do. It felt _good_ , the sensation of movement, especially. 

Shiro wasn’t going to think about that. “Okay, to the bed now, I guess?” 

The movement was easy, natural, and the warm weight against his shoulders felt so grounding and welcome. Shiro put his hand over Thace’s as he sat, abruptly needing off his feet, and Thace ended up sitting next to him. Okay! Okay. If Shiro couldn’t give up the touch, they’d… um. That’d be intimate. Did he want that? (Yes. …no?) He bit his lip, thinking. The touching, yes, but, sharing a bed had implications that (other Galra apparently thought Thace was going to fuck him and no)…

“How do you want…” Shiro winced.

“How do _you_ want it?” Thace said, with a gentle tone of correction. 

“No sex,” Shiro blurted out, and immediately regretted it, “but I would like to lay down.” 

Thace grimaced. “Sex… would be one request from you that I would refuse, right now. But if you want to keep the contact, just suggest positions, and we can adjust things until you’re comfortable.” 

Knowing that Thace would say no if he said he wanted sex… Actually, Shiro realized, maybe it was a good thing. If touching was so desperately good, then sex would be more so, and Shiro didn’t think he’d be able to say no to it if something started, and it wasn’t much of a jump for him to figure out, so Thace probably realized to and was protecting him. Protecting him. That felt— Shiro shivered at the thoughts, and Thace made an inquiring noise. Right. He was supposed to be figuring out how to arrange them comfortably. 

When Shiro had dated, he’d really liked spooning in bed, and wrapping his arms around his lover, but he’d always been the bigger one then. An image of how he and Thace had been when he’d turned around flashed through him. Okay, the reverse would be good, but maybe a little too good. The back of his neck was almost ticklishly sensitive, always had been and— Next!

Face to face on their sides could work. It’d be almost like the hug, and if Shiro had his back to the door he wouldn’t even have to worry about his arm going numb. But that would be uncomfortable for Thace, wouldn’t it? His new arm wasn’t exactly as forgiving as a flesh one, and then there was the likelihood of their legs getting tangled while they slept and— Okay, hold that one in reserve then. What about—

“You on your back, me on my side? You could keep your arm around my shoulders and…” Shiro trailed off. It wasn’t a bad idea, but it sounded so… so awkward put in words. 

But Thace smiled at him, just a little. “We can do that.” 

Then he settled back, and Shiro followed because that almost panic built up again as soon as Thace’s arm started to slip away. He ended up with his cheek on Thace’s che—ew. The front of Thace’s shirt was still covered in tears and snot. Thace looked down at himself and chuckled, but then sobered. “I could remove my shirt, but I don’t have another.” 

Which would leave Thace shirtless, and Shiro could hear the question under the words. Shirtless was better than the wet, so Shiro nodded. It only took a second for Thace to shuck the shirt off, but Shiro’s heart still clenched at the momentary lack of contact. God, he really _was_ touch-starved, wasn’t he? But Thace’s palm was against his shoulder again and Thace handed him the shirt, with a little cough. “You might also want to wipe your face.” 

Shiro had a moment of confusion, but realization hit him with a little bit of shame, and he quickly scrubbed his cheeks dry and cleared some of the snot out of his nose. The shirt was already in need of a wash, so why not. This whole situation bucked any kind of social norms on Earth anyway. 

Shiro was a _slave_ , forced to fight and kill for sport, and somehow going to share a bed with a man that he just met, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of how he would have at least had second thoughts before. But he wasn’t the same person who’d gotten on that shuttle to Kerberos, and he was being offered comfort, so he was going to damn well take it. 

When Shiro eased himself back down to settle, he saw fur, purple and soft looking, and thick on Thace’s shoulders and chest like a ruff. (There weren’t nipples, but half of Galra looked lizardlike, so maybe they weren’t mammals?) The position put his cheek right against the edge of the thicker fur and it was so much softer than it looked. It felt so _good_ against his cheek and arm, and Shiro sighed with the feeling, rubbing his cheek back and forth. 

Thace was suddenly tense underneath him, and the concern made him stop. “Thace? Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Thace said, almost croaked, and it was an obvious lie, but then Thace relaxed, and his voice went steadier, “I just wasn’t expecting it, and ruffling fur can be an intense sensation.” 

Shiro guessed that made sense, and he was feeling too tired to really call out the lie anyway. He felt so warm right now, in ways that transcended physical. How long had it been since he’d been able to cuddle someone, in bed or otherwise? Even before the launch, he’d been cautious about starting a new relationship, knowing how long he’d be gone. (Now he’d probably never go home, and how that thought _hurt_.) 

“Thank you.” Shiro exhaled a heavy sigh, almost surprised at how sleepy he was suddenly feeling. Sleep was a concept fraught with danger now, but his eyelids were closing against his will, and he felt safer than he had in so long…

“—ro. Shiro, please wake up.” 

A gasp tore out of Shiro, and he was suddenly very awake and shaking. Nightmare, and Shiro could almost taste the blood—no, he _could_ taste it. He must have bitten the inside of his cheek. Other sensations started to assert themselves as Shiro gulped air. He was almost on top of Thace, face against the thicker fur, and hands digging in— Shiro let go, becoming aware of a spot of warmth trailing down the outer edge of his back. Thace was stroking his back, trying to soothe him. Something broke inside, and Shiro was flooded with both relief and embarrassment. “Sorry…” 

“Don’t apologize. Nightmares are expected.” Thace’s voice was soft in the dark. “Do you need anything?” 

He needed a lot of things. Shiro breathed for a moment, waiting for the shaking to still. It was…not as bad as it could have been. But in the aftermath, there was a slow crawling terror trying to sweep over him, even fully awake. Shiro’s voice came out small and young. “I… don’t feel safe.” 

A strange sound started up in Thace’s chest, almost a birdlike warble, but popping along in a way that wasn’t birdlike at all. And he still spoke through it. “Do you know what might help you?” 

Something cracked, and his laugh came out broken. “Get me home.” Shiro winced. “I know you can’t. I just— hold me?”

Touch had helped before. (Touch was helping _now_ ; Shiro didn’t handle the nightmares well.) It was the only answer Shiro had, and when Thace’s arms slowly circled around him, felt but not tight, it shook something soft and desperate out of his throat. A part of Shiro just wanted to… crawl inside, never come out. Stop being something separate and— Shiro clung instead. 

“Would it help if I put myself between you and the door?” Thace asked, very, very softly.

Would it? Shiro didn’t know. “Do it.” 

Thace rolled, one knee ending up between Shiro’s calves during the move, and Shiro kept clinging. Shiro wrapped his arms further around Thace, and Thace mirrored the action, curling slightly towards Shiro. Protectively, Shiro realized, heart stuttering, but not in a bad way. Shiro pressed his forehead against Thace’s shoulder, felt breaths ruffle his hair, and tried not to think about anything else. 

Light. Shiro groaned and pressed deeper into the warmth. Into the sleep the light hadn’t quite pulled him out of. 

“Shiro,” Thace was still curled around him, closer if anything, and his words tickled through Shiro’s hair, “you’ll be taken away soon. If you want to eat or wash, this will be your last chance.” 

That woke him up fully. Shiro fought back a grimace. He’d known on some level that it was coming, but it had been so nice not to think about it. But Shiro felt… better. Less tense, less exhausted, more alert than he’d felt in… a while. 

Sitting up didn’t cause that heart clenching almost panic, either. Shiro still kind of wanted (a lot) to curl back into the touch, but it wasn’t a _need_ right now. Something uncomfortable and unhappy had settled. “Thank you. And… food.” 

If he was going to be sent back, he probably shouldn’t be in Thace’s clothes, and he needed to use the bathroom anyway. Thace headed towards the table while Shiro took his time getting up and heading towards the other door. 

It was too tempting not to indulge in a really quick shower, and the jumpsuit was cleaner than it had been in a while. It still made him cringe to wear, and when Shiro went back out into the main room, Thace’s expression twitched. He had a good poker face, Shiro thought, but it was probably a frown he was hiding. 

“Here,” Thace handed him a bowl of the same purple slime, almost apologetically, “it’s all I have. Actual food is expensive.” 

Shiro just shook his head and smiled. Still tasted like bacon grease only without the tasty bacon flavor, but it was filling, and it was offered freely. “I— This really means a lot to me. I’m not sure why you’ve been so kind but I need you to know. So, thank you.”

Thace opened his mouth to reply and the door beeped once before sliding open on its own. A robotic voice called the number they’d assigned him and demanded he come out. Suddenly the almost panic was back in full, and Shiro was on his feet and launching towards Thace before his brain caught up with him. God help him, he didn’t want to leave. There was laughter from behind the two sentries

Thace hugged him, tight, for a split second. “Remember your victory; I know you’ll achieve it.” 

His victory? Shiro remembered what Thace said about survival, and hope, and neither of those were a bad thing, and somehow, knowing that Thace was rooting for him felt uplifting. 

When the order came again, Shiro obeyed, feet dragging. The tusked Galra was behind the two sentries, and sniffed pointedly. “Do you still think this little creature is more valuable and competent than Arix?”

“I stand by my statements, Commander,” Thace answered blandly.

“And you didn’t even claim him,” the Galra snapped, “after I went to the trouble of acquiring him for you.” 

“You did that so that you could hold my presumed proclivities over my head when I avoided your trap to get me killed by the Witch, sir,” Thace said without any inflection at all.

That got a snarl. “I should demote you for your insolence and having the gall to treat a slave like an equal. You were _feeding_ him.” 

Thace just held the Galra’s gaze for a long, tense moment. “You promoted me over Sub-Commander Ylvik for a reason, sir. You also incited Arix’s jealousy last night. Do you still blame me for the perceived slight of being passed over to host the Red Lion? You know as well as I do that no one but Commander Sendak was going to be chosen, since he was the one who found it. I saved you from endangering yourself with your poorly thought out plan. Shall I compose a report to the Emperor about all your other incidents of mismanagement of resources for your own personal gain?” 

The other Galra hissed, actually hissed, and muttered something that Shiro couldn’t catch as he turned on his heel. The sentires started marching him away. 

Thace didn’t move, standing framed by the doorway. 

Shiro moved, unable to do anything else. 

His cell was empty and cold. His cell was unwelcome. Shiro hugged his knees and tried to imagine it was Thace’s touch.

* * *

In hindsight, Thace should have expected retribution. Prorok could be intensely petty when he wanted to be, and like so many Commanders, disliked admitting his faults. When the Red Lion had been recovered (captured) by Sendak and then promptly refused to let any of Sendak’s soldiers near it, it had inspired a burst of competition, with Commanders jockeying for position and a theoretical chance for the glory of possessing a part of Voltron. Prorok had decided that putting down a rebellion was what he needed to get an edge, but the only thing even close in his sector were the Likryans, a mineral-lichen symbiotic species who could take an entire shift to communicate a single sentence. They’d protested mines on their sacred sites not by fighting, but by going dormant, which had hardly negatively effected operations at all, but Prorok had suggested acid bombing to ‘teach them a lesson.’ 

It would have decimated the population, and more than that, cut off an important resource not only to the Empire but to the Blades. Likryan scale-leaves were crystalline lenses, shed and easily collected on a regular cycle, and had a twenty percent better performance and output than manufactured lenses for several medical applications, as well as being vital for many Blade safety measures. Thace had had to stop it, and had butted in on Prorok’s self-aggrandizing announcement of his plans to mention the negative impact of the proposed solution on the Empire’s infrastructure. The Emperor had actually commended Thace on his foresight and attention to the Empire’s needs and the Red Lion had remained with Sendak in a move any Galra could have predicted. Prorok had been downright sullen about it for over a decade, forcing Thace to work hard to find ways to get back into his good graces, and honestly, Thace shouldn’t have thought it settled when his performance had finally gotten Prorok’s approval again. 

Prorok held grudges very patiently, which Thace had known from cycles spent as the spy in his camp. The command masquerading as an invitation to the Arena had been impossible to deny, and Thace had been more concerned about not exposing his utter _disgust_ at the practice than about what Prorok had been up to. Thace would have suffered regardless, he knew, because nothing he could have said to the challenge would have ended without a duel of some kind, and potential disgrace. Prorok was both thorough and sly when he wanted to be. But if he’d noticed, he might have been able to turn it away from an accusation of sexual desire for the Champion (which many Galra felt, but knew better than to mention in public), and the incitement of Arix’s jealousy to make it worse, and put him in to possibly kill the Witch’s favorite and earn her ire. Thace had taken the rumors over getting on her bad side and found a way around killing Shiro.

What was done, was done, and even as he cursed the blow to his reputation and increased suspicion of others, Thace couldn’t help feel accomplished that he’d been able to help Shiro even momentarily. After personal interaction with the Earthling, Thace understood why Ulaz wanted to free him as a solution to the Blue Lion problem, and Thace was glad he’d been able to help Shiro’s scent sooth out into contentment for even a few moments. 

The _problem_ was that Prorok wasn’t finished with his revenge, made crystal clear when Thace had seen their destination on the nav. Prorok’s grin and scent had been full of poorly disguised malice, and this time, Thace knew that apparent refusal of the ‘gift’ would end with accusations of insubordination at best. It made Thace want to grind his teeth even more than the stench of fear and despair of the Arena did.

But he hadn’t been able to refuse the command this time either, and Prorok laughed at him. “The Champion’s performance improved after your last night with him. He’s been promised another if he wins with appropriate viciousness tonight. You should thank me.” 

Knowing it was coming didn’t stop the clench of regret and sympathy in his gut. Bad enough that this was being used against Thace, but to further abuse Shiro too… He couldn’t show any of that though, so Thace just put on his most pleasant expression. “I’m going to get myself refreshment for the fights. Would you also like a drink, sir?” 

Prorok declined, and Thace went down towards the refreshment station, and then promptly turned down a different hall. Everyone was up in the stands by now, so there was no one to witness, and the surveillance was rarely watched. He’d risked a message to Ulaz when he’d realized, and Ulaz was waiting in the shadows. There was no surveillance down this hallway, mostly used for the medics and janitorial staff, so they were relatively safe. 

Ulaz frowned, and started in without preamble. “He asks for you whenever he comes out of anesthesia now.” 

His hand was extended to Thace, and in it… Thace didn’t bother to conceal his reluctance or embarrassment. A protective barrier. “Ulaz, don’t ask me to— He’s so vulnerable; it’d be nearly coercion!” 

“I only need a little more time before I can free him and send him back to Earth. He’s become the hope for so many, so the least we can do his help bolster his own hope. Let him feel some kindness. All I can provide without suspicion is adequate pain killers and anesthesia. But you—“ Ulaz stepped closer, so earnest, and scent thick with urgency, “somehow you’ve managed to be put in a position where you can offer what he’s been denied.” 

First of all, Leader had refused Ulaz’s plan. It was a direct disobedience of orders for Ulaz to suggest such a thing. Thace almost wanted to congratulate him, but it would endanger, if not ruin Ulaz’s cover. He still couldn’t bring himself to protest the idea, the remembered weight of Shiro as he shook through a nightmare stalling his tongue. “Comfort, I can offer, but sex is—“

Ulaz kissed him, and there was blood thick in his taste. Thace kissed back, keenly aware of how stressed Ulaz was, and how worried for Shiro and the Blades he was. And the blood— Shiro’s, Thace realized. But for it to still be so thick in Ulaz’s mouth… Ulaz pulled back with a mournful keen from his syrinx. “They beat and stabbed him, Thace. They promised him comfort with you, and then injured him to make it that much harder for him to win it. I had to risk my cover to do anything about it at all, and Earthlings don’t respond as well to the healing compounds in our saliva as we do. But he will succeed because he has hope, and his success will lift up so many others.” 

Thace understood, he did, but the situation was too unbalanced. “Ulaz, if I ask, there are too many things that could sway him to a consent that he doesn’t or _can’t_ really mean.” 

“I know,” Ulaz said heavily, and fished something else out of his tool pouch, “but I suspect he’ll ask without prompting, and if he doesn’t, I’ve prepared this. You’ll have to self-pleasure for it to work properly, and it probably won’t stand up to particularly close inspection, but as long as there’s contact between you afterwards, you’ll both smell like sex.” 

Thace slipped the offered hypo away in a hidden pouch in his armor, grateful for another option. But he was keenly aware of the time spent, _and_ that he needed to show up with a drink, so he put a hand on Ulaz’s shoulder. “Thank you, brother. But Prorok is suspicious already; I shouldn’t delay.” 

Ulaz almost grinned, almost, and then leaned over to pick up something behind him. That sly— This time Ulaz _did_ smile. “I know you well enough to have guessed your excuse. It’s your favorite, and I removed the alcohol content so your faculties won’t be impaired.”

There were no words for his gratitude, and Thace risked pressing his forehead to Ulaz’s in thanks. He’d carry the medic’s scent back out into the stands just from the kiss, but Prorok had smelled Ulaz on him before, and would probably be hyper focused on his own petty vengeance anyway. 

So Thace retreated back to the stands, clutching the drink, and steeled himself to watch the horrible spectacle. Prorok didn’t comment on the scent, and Thace wasn’t even sure he noticed. Shiro was the last to fight, as expected, and Thace could spot the stiffness in his limbs and the way he tried to avoid twisting too much. It was hard to hold the anger at bay, especially when his opponent came out. It would be a difficult fight for a Galra in prime health; Thace couldn’t imagine how much harder it was going to be for the injured Earthling. 

But Shiro fought with a ferocity that had been absent, his last matches, and an intense focus that rocked Thace, even from this distance. Prorok laughed cruelly when the match was won, sneering at Thace. “After tonight, everyone will know of your fetish for lesser aliens. I hope you enjoy my _gift_. After the risk I took to get it for you, it would be an insult to refuse it.” 

Hearing it stated so baldly, Prorok so confident in his revenge, was infuriating. Thace had to grit his teeth all the way to the exit, and Shiro was there, held between two guards. His scent was thick with his own blood and pain, but lit up with relief when he saw Thace. It was heartbreaking, and Thace was completely unsurprised when Shiro hugged him the moment the door to his quarters slid shut. Thace waited to make sure Shiro was okay with reciprocation and hugged back, earning a gasping sigh as Shiro abruptly relaxed. “Missed this—“

It left Thace feeling wounded and angry. No one should suffer for lack of contact so much that a virtual stranger could leave them feeling so joyfully replete. It was terrible that Shiro was forced into this situation, but Thace couldn’t correct it. All he could do was provide what comfort he could. “I can smell the blood and pain on you, would you like some clothes so you can wash? I can prepare some food while you do.” 

Shiro held tighter for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” 

Thace handed his spare nightclothes to Shiro and waited until the bathroom door was shut before changing. He stared at the hypo and protective barrier for a long moment before putting them aside. He had splurged recently, spending his pay on some actual food, maybe half-hoping to share it with Ulaz (or Shiro), and set about preparing that. He had no idea about Earthling nutritional requirements but if Shiro had survived this long on slave rations, the food probably wouldn’t poison him. 

It was only cheap rormav stew and a spiced marrow and lard spread on toasted bonemeal and lykix nut biscuits, but Thace still felt a surge of pride when he saw Shiro’s expression. It matched his scent of gratitude and— Thace wasn’t going to think about what else he smelled, and settled beside Shiro in the desk chair that he’d dragged over. 

Shiro groaned happily as he tried the stew. “I haven’t had real food in so long—“ 

Thace winced when he swallowed the first bite in a rush. “Please try to eat slowly; it can be difficult for a body to adjust to richer foods after rations.” 

“I know, but—“ Shiro huffed, but slowed down, and then blindly stretched his left hand towards Thace. Thace reached out to take it, and to his surprise, Shiro twined their fingers together. His voice and scent were so warm, almost awed. “You got me food; I didn’t know there was food in space.” 

“It’s expensive, and fresh food is almost impossible on a ship or station, but there are times when it’s worth it.” And Thace thought this was one of them, even if he wouldn’t get any. Something so simple had made Shiro so happy, and that made his heart swell. Thace had always been prone to caring too much, and he was getting in over his head with that care yet again, but it was hard to mind. 

Shiro gave him a startled look, and then his expression softened and his scent went overwhelmed. He didn’t stop eating, but his grip tightened, and even when he was having trouble with the spread and biscuits he didn’t let go. He made a face at the first bite though. “Maybe I shouldn’t have spread it as thickly—ooh, spicy. Definitely better when the spice kicks in.” 

Thace couldn’t help a little chuckle. “I’ve heard that other species find marrow spread to be an acquired taste.” 

Shiro looked at Thace, then the spread, then Thace again, and muttered ‘huh’ before continuing to eat. When he was finished, he leaned against Thace, scent gone soft with sleepiness, but then he winced and put a hand to his side. Thace allowed himself a brief warble in concern. “Do your injuries need attention?”

“I’m… not sure?” Shiro’s expression went distant for a moment. “The kiss-it-better medic took care of what I had before, I guess. But I got some new bruises and cuts from the fight. Mostly bruises; I avoided the claws and teeth.” 

“Would you like me to look at them?” It was worth it to ask. Thace only had his saliva and basic first aid supplies, but if it would help, he’d offer it freely. 

The moment of stillness stretched, and then burst like a bubble when Shiro shuddered out a breath. HIs face had turned from it’s usual color to a much redder one. Was he ill? 

“Okay.” It was quiet enough that Thace almost didn't hear the word, and then Shiro grasped the shirt and pulled it off over his head. There was the stab wound, sealant looking strained but holding. The other bruises and cuts were more minor, but probably painful. 

Thace didn’t say anything but started pulling things out of his kit. With a soft cloth he started applying antiseptic to the cuts, and Shiro watched him do it, brow furrowed. “So… is it a thing, or was he just being a creep?” 

Thace had no idea what Shiro was referring to and it must have shown on his face, because Shiro clarified a moment later. “The kissing it better thing?” 

Oh. Thace knew Ulaz had used that method with Shiro at least once, and Ulaz probably wouldn’t have told him more than absolutely necessary. Thace didn’t think filling in the details would cause any harm. “Yes, our saliva has strong anti-microbial properties, and at least for other Galra, kissing and licking will stimulate healing and immune response. Some Galra prefer that method, although technology has far surpassed what saliva and kissing can do. You would have to ask a scientist to find out if it has the same effects for your species.”

Shiro rubbed the scar across his face thoughtfully. “Huh, so that’s why it healed so well. Do you, um Galra, enjoy kissing?” 

What was that question for? Harmless, at any rate. Thace shrugged. “It’s very soothing, and encourages a sense of well-being. Most Galra experience stress relief when kissing someone they have some trust for.” 

Shiro turned even more red, but leaned forward. “Then you can, if you want,” he took a breath, “it’s nice for humans too.” 

Something was off, but Thace couldn’t place it. He was about to ask, but Shiro completed the motion and Thace barely had the time to put a hand up between them. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” Shiro smelled determined, so Thace let his hand drop. The moment he did, Shiro kissed him. It was… forceful, odd, and Thace tried to dial it back to something gentle as the soothing kicked in. Shiro wasn’t soothed though. Thace picked up on pain and a body straining to keep up with healing the injuries and malnutrition. The taste of stress and sleep deprivation made Thace warble. All he wanted to do was soothe those hurts and the nerves, so Thace didn’t pull back after a brief kiss like he’d half intended. 

Instead, the kiss lengthened, lingered, and Shiro sighed sharply into it as he moved closer. Thace didn’t protest when arms curled around his neck, but the niggling feeling that something was off rose again. 

Shiro moaned. More than that, his taste was changing, matching the arousal threading through his scent, and there was something desperate about it that rang alarm bells. Thace pulled back. Shiro tried to follow, pupils blown wide. 

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, breathless, “I’m okay. I want to, with you. And they’ll hurt you—“ 

Oh no. That was not how Thace would have wanted Shiro to ask. It was coerced, and he couldn’t— Shiro looked and smelled hurt and confused when Thace pulled himself free of the embrace. The hurt made Thace want to lean back in and soothe it (caring too much) but he couldn’t, not like this. “Shiro, I won’t have sex with you if you can’t honestly consent, and if they’ve told you my welfare depends on it, you can’t honestly consent. If we were to ever have sex, I’d want you to want it for yourself, and no other reason. And besides that, there’s an alternative that will do what’s necessary.” 

Shiro’s confusion eased, and his expression softened from hurt to something like gratitude. He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and breathed deep. “I— Thank you. But… Are you sure?” 

“Ulaz—“ Thace winced, wondering if he should have given out the name, “a friend of mine, gave me a serum that will make it smell like we’ve had sex if I use it. I’ll have to self-pleasure, but I can do that in the bathroom. Even a hug afterward will transfer the scent, and it will stand up to casual inspection.” 

Another deep breath from Shiro. “You’re sure it’ll work?” When Thace nodded, Shiro continued on, looking up at Thace through lowered lashes. “Then do it here. It’s normal on Earth, and I’ll smell more if I’m here while you do it, right?” 

Thace wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Shiro chewed on his lip for a brief flash. “And I’ve been thinking about you, missing the hug, every night. I don’t want to waste a second.” 

Shiro smelled of need, and Thace didn’t have the heart to deny him the contact he craved, even if he had his doubts. So he nodded once, and Shiro ducked under his arm for the short trip to the bed. His scent settled immediately, although there was still a little arousal in it. Thace tried not to focus on it as he activated the hypo. The sting of the injection was followed by a flush of warmth, and Thace leaned over to dig into his personal drawer. He was half tempted to pull out the full penetration aid, because those orgasms were both intensely good and left him feeling less protective. Thace didn’t know how well he’d react to Shiro being taken away in the morning, while flush with hormones and instincts that demanded keeping his new partner to himself. 

Shiro was peering at the contents of the drawer curiously, and his eyes widened at the sight. “That’s… long.” 

Definitely not the full penetration aid then. Smelling like full penetration when his fake partner wasn’t long enough to achieve it was asking for the deception to be discovered. So, Thace picked out his cock sleeve instead, and on a whim, the canal balls too. They added a nice kick to peaking. But he hesitated one more time before sliding his pants down. “You’re _sure_?” 

Shiro nodded and tucked himself against Thace’s side. His face went red again. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m a little curious too, honestly.” 

So Thace shucked off his pants, and looked over at Shiro’s ‘huh’, but Shiro didn’t respond to the questioning look, and Thace was feeling a little bit of nerves. He set to tracing the outer edges of his sheath with the pads of his fingers, hissing at the sensitivity. Usually when he touched himself, he unsheathed in a matter of moments but this time, nerves kept cooling the arousal before it got high enough.

In an attempt to hurry things along, Thace activated the artificial slick function on the balls, and pressed the first one back to his canal entrance. It took more work than it should have, and he had to dial down the diameter from his preferred setting but it finally popped in, stretching Thace until his teeth clenched from it. Good, but a bit too much when all he had was a trickle of arousal. He’d leave the other until he was more ready.

Shiro had been quiet at first, but curled closer, muttering, “you’re so tense. Relax.” 

Then something brushed against his neck, there and gone, and Thace gasped at the unexpected touch. The brush firmed into— _oh_ , Shiro had nuzzled him, and was resting his cheek against Thace’s shoulder. The rush was tinged with guilt, but arousal was potent enough to unsheathe him. Shiro gasped this time, and his scent thickened, but he didn’t move. Thace was grateful, because the arousal was already whispering in the back of his brain that as long as Shiro consented, it was okay. It wasn’t, and Thace needed to keep that at the forefront of his thoughts so he didn’t slip up and do something he’d regret, like nuzzling in return. 

So he focused on the feel of his cock between his fingers, making sure his slick was spread evenly before seating the sleeve over the tip. The first undulation into it was enough to make his toes curl and his spine arch. It was the scent of someone else so close, Thace realized. He wasn’t just bringing himself to a dry, mechanical peak for the release of it. 

For the next few undulations, very little mattered but the pressure around his cock from the sleeve, and Shiro’s scent in his nose. He was chirping and shivering with every motion, hungrier for it than he’d been in a while. His canal was slick finally, and Thace paused a moment to push the other ball in with a short, aborted trill. A touch to the memory button had the balls expanding to his favorite setting, and Thace clenched down around the exquisite stretch making a bit of his slick come slipping out around the balls in a rush. 

“Shit—“ Shiro was shifting beside him, cloth rustling, and Thace glanced over just as his cock brushed up against the false end of the sleeve. It wasn’t the same as a real cervix, but close enough. Then that sensation was coupled with the image of Shiro’s fingers wrapped around something _thick_ and the color was the same as his red face. He pulled his left hand back down it, towards his body, and Thace finally put the shape to concept. It was Shiro’s cock, short but thick, and the image of having that cock stretching his canal made both his cock and canal spasm in want. 

Shiro groaned, and Thace’s cock pushed through the barrier. He was peaking in a moment, gasping through it as his canal shivered and clenched down around the balls, forcing his pleasure higher. His semen had gotten all over his thigh, and was dripping down the sleeve and the hand supporting it, and Thace barely had the presence of mind to tighten the ring on the sleeve to stimulate a lock, and slumped back, shuddering through the pleasure. 

Beside him, against him, Shiro was breathing in sharp, quick gasps, hand moving and hips rocking. He turned his face against Thace’s shoulder, probably not meaning to nuzzle but doing so anyway, and then shuddered. Thace couldn’t turn away as Shiro’s peak took him, and watched helplessly, as Shiro spurted white, and ended up smearing it all over Thace’s thigh and his own hand. It was thicker than Galra semen, Thace noticed, and not the cloudy translucence he would have expected. 

Guilt tried to push forward, but the continued pleasure held it at bay. Shiro was still, having moved his hand away from his cock, now starting to look smaller, and less red. But he smelled of contentment and relaxation, and while Thace was coming down and puzzling out what this meant, he sighed. Shiro’s voice came out slow and soft, barely more than a breath. “Thank you. I haven’t… Not since I was captured. I know you were worried about consent, and honestly, I think that’s what helped me… feel safe enough, I guess? You wouldn’t do it even to save yourself, not unless _I_ wanted it. And watching you…”

Shiro trailed off with a shiver and then licked his lips before starting again. “It was hot watching you. You were so different and I wanted to touch, and then I was touching myself before I really realized. But it was good, and I’m glad, and most importantly _I wanted to_.”

Thace was surprised by the admission. He wasn’t sure what to do about it either. But if Shiro was sure he’d wanted to and there had been no external pressure to do it so, maybe it was okay. He’d done everything he could to avoid any kind of coercion, at least. 

He took a breath, and hit the control to disengage the sleeve. He still winced when it came off his cock so it could resheathe, and pulling out the balls made him shudder with it. Shiro watched the whole time, something eager in his scent. Eyes bright, he asked, “so Galra have both?” 

Thace wondered at what else Shiro had for a moment, but it wasn’t a good idea to ask in return, so he just nodded. “The configuration is different, depending on sex, but yes.” 

Shiro’s response to the answer didn’t make it into words, and he twisted to put a bare leg over Thace’s bare thighs. The only clothes either of them had on right now was Thace’s shirt, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to allow it when Thace’s blood was still running hot, but Shiro’s happy sigh stalled his protest. “Always want to cuddle after I come…” 

But Shiro’s forehead rubbed over the front of Thace’s throat, and that sensation, combined with their scents of pleasure heightened his arousal. Without brooding pheromones in the air, Thace doubted he could unsheathe again or peak so soon, but it still glowed brightly inside him, and his instincts cried to keep his new partner close and protect him. Not ideal when Shiro would be forced away in the morning. 

But Shiro was oblivious to all that, and so drowsily content that Thace didn’t want to move either of them. Sleeping propped half against the wall would result in soreness, and that thought was enough to prod Thace into action. “We should adjust position if we’re going to sleep.” 

Shiro made a sleepy sound of protest, but then mumbled assent, and within moments of getting rearranged, he was asleep, head pillowed against Thace’s chest, and a leg still clinging around his thighs. Shiro slept deeply for most of the sleep shift, but Thace startled awake at each faint sound heard through the door. There was no reason for him to be so protective, unless somehow Earthling pheromones were close enough to Galra… 

Or by attempting to care for and respect for each other, after the farce of courtship, they’d somehow started a consort bond. All species shared quintessence and Thace had read the research about them that indicated species didn’t matter where it came to those bonds. 

Those thoughts plagued Thace until the late hours of the shift, when nightmares finally disturbed Shiro’s sleep. Soothing Shiro took priority, and with his focus on that care, Thace felt drowsiness claim him as Shiro’s scent went soft and gentle with sleep. 

A sound outside the door woke Thace a moment before the beep of the lock being overridden. Thace was snarling before he thought better of it, and Prorok’s scent was of self-satisfied victory. And Thace… couldn’t bring himself to care. He could recover from this, and there were many ways to sabotage Prorok in the fleet if it became necessary. But he did have to curb the protective response, so Thace took a breath to recenter—

And Shiro woke, whimpering in his half awake state and pressing further back into Thace’s hold. The snarl broke past his control again. Damn. 

The sentry with Prorok coldly demanded Shiro’s return to the cells by his prisoner number. Shiro flinched, but sat up and pulled the bedsheet around himself. Thace let it go, caring less about his own state of undress than Shiro’s. 

“Your clothes are in the cleaning unit,” Thace said, to break the silence, and nudged Shiro, risking a squeeze to his shoulder to encourage him. Prorok smirked as Shiro padded to the bathroom. 

The smirk only widened when Thace sat up, fishing for his pants on the floor. Prorok even had the gall to laugh. “Trying to keep the alien’s scent off you by leaving your clothes on? It won’t work, even if you wash down yourself and the entire room. The scent of your mutual pleasure is so thick that it will follow you for shifts, at least. The mutual pleasure alone damns you for your fetish, Thace. Perhaps if you’d just conquered Champion and humiliated him…” 

“I’m only following your orders, sir” Thace said, knowing the sentries kept logs of their sensors, “you wanted me to claim him and finish the false courtship, so I did so.” 

Prorok frowned, but Shiro’s exit from the bathroom stalled conversation, and the sentry relayed the command again. Shiro obeyed, steps reluctant and scent warring between feeling alone and besieged and determination. But at the door he turned around with a smile, forced as it was. “I will achieve my own victory; I’ll never give up, or forget you.” 

Prorok and his mission be damned. Thace was going to help Ulaz with Shiro’s escape. Shiro just needed to keep his hope. Thace smiled. “I know you will, Shiro. I’m glad to have met you.” 

Shiro’s face lit up in an honest smile. Thace was going to hold that smile in his memory as a precious thing, even though he’d probably never see Shiro again. 

It would be a balm against the aching feeling of loneliness that was trying to claw at him; Thace would make it so.

* * *

Something was different, and the difference made Shiro’s hair stand on end. He’d been marched to the labs, but strapped to a chair and not the table. The Witch had come in and personally drawn his blood and taken scans, and had busied herself in silence since. Each moment made Shiro’s tension ramp up. 

“This soldier, Lieutenant Thace…” her voice broke the silence so suddenly that Shiro flinched, “do you wish to return to his side?” 

_Yes_. But why was she asking? Was she going to punish Thace for helping him? Shiro swallowed against his racing heart and dry throat. “No.” 

The Witch didn’t even turn to look at him. “That was a lie. Did you lie to protect him?” 

She’d know if he lied again, she somehow always knew. Shiro felt cold sweat breaking out over his body. “Yes. He didn’t do anything wrong, it was—“ 

“Commander Prorok—“ the Witch began sharply, “will be dealt with. Do you care for him?” 

Shiro’s heart stopped for a long painful moment, and fear beat at him. She was going to hurt Thace— She turned around suddenly and smiled in a way that sent chills down his spine. “Yes, you do, as much as you can at this point. Does he care for you?” 

Shiro would give anything to run away right now. “I don’t know? He fed me and made sure I got to wash and… sleep.” 

She approached, and tipped his chin up. Shiro jerked his head away and she made a disapproving sound. “What would you do to be given the chance to remain with him?” 

Shiro didn’t move, couldn’t speak. Blackmail, that’s what this was. But could he betray someone who’d been so kind to him? 

“Loyalty to the Empire and your Emperor will be rewarded, Champion. Remember that.” Some kind of energy crackled around her fingertips and she held them on either side of his head. 

Shiro _screamed._ The encroaching blackness was welcome. 

When he blinked back awake, a headache blazing behind his eyes, he was strapped to the table and there was a Galra, captor—

Thace! Ugh, why was it hard to remember things? Shiro tried to shake his head but there was a bent woman on his other side that sent fear through him. Who was she?

The Witch! And she was smiling, which somehow was very bad. “Lieutenant Thace, you’ve been giving the honor of serving your Emperor with this experiment. Get on the table, over the Champion. You will be strapped down during the procedure to prevent harm to yourself.” 

Thace was still for a long moment, eyes wide. Then he ducked his head. “Vrepit Sa.” 

The heat of Thace’s body as he climbed up over Shiro was _good_. Shiro wanted it so badly, gave in and arched for it for a second, and then Thace settled over him. The weight pressing down on his hips, between his thighs was— Shiro had thought about this, but without the table. He’d jerked off in his cell to this, imagining, wanting, Thace on top of him, kissing him and wriggling that weirdly attractive dick inside him. 

Instead they were strapping Thace’s wrists to his, ankles to his, and there was no space between them. Someone else came into the room, masked and sending a similar jolt of fear through him that the Witch had. 

The Witch was speaking, “both of your quintessence is ripe, open, and even reaching for a consort bond. We are going to speed up that process for you. It will probably be unpleasant.” 

Thace made a soft broken sound, and his head dropped down to the table. Shiro thought it was defeat, and something in him curdled, but then a whisper, “sorry. If it were our choice, I would let a bond form naturally, after explaining it to you…” 

Shiro didn’t know what was happening, but quintessence was something inside people and also magic, and bonds… His muddled memories brought back Thace, holding him through a nightmare, giving him food, kissing him— “I’d like a bond with you.” 

Crackling energy enveloped them, feeling like it was ripping Shiro from his body. Then Thace’s fingers twined with his and Thace croaked out, “Make it _our_ victory.” 

Then blackness. 

Stinging pain. A blurry face. Words. Words— “need you to wake up. We need to get you both out of here _now_.” 

Shiro knew that face. That face was. It was… Kiss-it-better medic. “Wha…?” 

“Ulaz, I—“ A voice! Shiro knew that voice! It was safety and good things. It belonged to… The voice was speaking. “There are gaps… I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?” 

Shiro sat up, feeling vaguely surprised that he wasn’t tied down. Should he have been? Memory hit, stark and terrible. Yes, yes he should have been. Why were _his_ memories so spotty? 

The medic was holding something out to Shiro’s companion. “Do you remember the code? And the Witch was testing your quintessence. I believe the scrambling of your memories was a temporary side-effect, and with time and stimuli they all should return. But we must hurry. When I don’t report the installation of the monitoring devices, an alarm will be raised.” 

“I do remember,” the safe voice said, and then, “this blade. I was a Blade. I was fighting the Empire.” 

“We need to _move_ ,” Ulaz said. 

Safe voice moved. Darting from shadow to shadow like he was made to like— a ninja. 

Shiro moved. He felt clumsy but there was a _need_ to stay with safe voice. Shiro belonged, something inside him straining towards the man. (Another memory, the same aliens jeering and tossing safe voice into an arena with him. Those other enemies were captors, tormentors, and safe voice was hurt by them too.)

Ulaz stopped them at a corner. “This is where I leave you two. Thace, you should remember the coordinates on your own, but if you have trouble, they’re in Shiro’s arm. The Blue Lion has been found on Earth; we need both of you to find it and protect it from the Empire. Zarkon must never get Voltron. Remember, the Blade of Marmora is with you.” 

Shiro was still so confused, but that name hit him, stark and painful. Zarkon was the enemy. Zarkon was responsible for his capture. 

Thace (Thace! Shiro remembered exchanging names, eating food Thace gave him—) was standing still. “I remember—“ 

“No time! _Go!_ I’ve set explosives to cover your escape and programmed a pod. Be safe, brothers.” 

“You too, brother,” Thace said, and turned, a knife in his hand. 

They moved, and Shiro remembered the pattern of steps. They moved, and Thace cut through sentries like they were butter. They moved, and there were explosions, and a pod in front of them. 

The ship was unfamiliar but flying was still second nature for Shiro. His older memories were clear again, after some time, but most of his captivity was a blur. Shiro knew he'd fought and been experimented on. He knew he'd met Thace and spent two nights with him but wanted more. And he felt pulled to Thace, like they fit together. 

The last autopiloted jump was complete, and finally Shiro could bear not to be in the pilot seat. It was a strange anxiety, like if he looked away the ship would turn around and take them back. Thace had been quiet, brow furrowed, but looked up and that _smile_. “Shiro.” 

“Thace,” it felt natural in Shiro’s mouth, and going into Thace’s arms was like coming home. Shiro didn’t know what was going to happen, didn’t really remember why warning Earth was so important (it was, of course, but his memories slipped through his fingers like sand), but he knew somewhere deep down that Thace was safety and comfort. 

And very worried, even if he wasn’t speaking of it. “Thace, what’s wrong?” 

“You feel it too,” Thace said, almost too quiet to hear, then more loudly, “the Witch used her magic to connect us, against our wills. I’m worried about the side-effects, and…” 

He trailed off, but Shiro knew somehow. It made sense, and it hurt. Thace was always trying to make sure Shiro _wanted_ what happened, and that had been taken away from both of them. But at the same time, the connection felt as good as the hug did. “First, answer some questions, okay? Could it be undone?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Thace wouldn’t look at him.

Shiro made him look. “Would it have happened to us anyway?” 

Thace paused. “I don’t know. Consort bonds are rare, and little is known about them to begin with. We aren’t really consorts either; this bond was created by her artificially.” 

“Would you want to be, given the choice? For the bond or consorts both.” Shiro pushed aside his hesitation at the word consort. There was a heaviness to it, like it was something huge and immutable. 

“I don’t know.” Thace sighed when Shiro had to look away, a part of him stinging with hurt. Thace was quick to continue, “I’ve come to care for you in the short time we’ve known each other; the memories I’ve recovered are proof of that. It would be dishonest to claim more than that right now, but given a choice I think I would like to get to know you more and see where this all leads.” 

“Me too.” Shiro closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling. It sang like a harp string when he focused on it, something beyond senses, but pleasant. As long as it was there, Shiro would never be alone, because he was always connected to Thace now, even if they were apart physically. “But if we can’t change it, we use it. Our own victory, right?” 

For a split second, there was no reaction, and then Thace quirked a smile. “Our own victory, yes. But we should plot our re-entry.” 

Thace nudged Shiro, and he reluctantly pulled away. Thace had a point after all, and Earth was looming big and blue-green in front of them. If they didn’t do it right, they’d burn up in the atmosphere, or come in too hot and crash, or—

“Focus, Shiro.” 

It was enough to make Shiro laugh. Usually he was the one talking about focus— A glance gave him the sight of Thace nodding. It had been intentional, prompted by the bond. Shiro grinned. “Thanks. With you by my side, I know we’ll succeed. They can’t deny aliens when one is standing right in front of them.” 

“Finding Voltron should be our first priority,” Thace said seriously, “but after that we should warn your planet of what’s coming. As long as the Blue Lion is on Earth and the Empire knows it, invasion is inevitable.” 

Those words were so important, but Shiro couldn’t quite remember why. The knowledge that the Empire was coming though, that sat in his gut like lead. So many would be hurt like he’d been if it happened. So if finding this Voltron was what they needed to do to stop it— “What _is_ a Voltron? It’s not some kind of creature, is it?” 

Thace opened his mouth and then closed it. “I… don’t remember. It’s a weapon, but beyond that, my memories are fractured. Some have come back, but not all.” 

Well, that wasn’t good news. “How are we supposed to find something we don’t even know what it is?” 

“We’ll find it together,” Thace’s hand settled on Shiro’s shoulder as he spoke, warmth following. “We’ll achieve our victory together.” 

“Our victory, together.” Shiro sighed happily. “I like the sound of that.”

Shiro hit the thrusters for the final approach, feeling like he was glowing. Together, they’d do this together, and Shiro had more than hope that they’d succeed. 

Their victory would be warning Earth, protecting it, together.


End file.
